


Until the Stars Blink Out

by Incogneet0



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bilbo Is Awesome, Boffins - Freeform, Class Differences, Loneliness, Lovely Bofur, M/M, No beta we die like mne, Pining, Rating May Change, Romance, Slow Burn, brief mentions of attitudes that could be seen as homophobic, lovely bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incogneet0/pseuds/Incogneet0
Summary: Bofur tries his best to look after his family in Ered Luin, but the world of men isn't kind to dwarves. He decides he might have better luck in the Shire. He just didn't realize he might get so attached to a place...and a hobbit.





	1. To better lands

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul is in bold text and Iglishmek in italics.

The Ur clan, like most dwarves, were wary of men.

While they sometimes came across kind-hearted examples of their race, on the whole men had spat at them, tried to swindle them and looked upon them with distrust. Then there were all the lies men spread about dwarves: that they were greedy, that they kidnapped their women in the night to have their way with them because dwarven women were so ugly, that they cast spells upon weary travellers and robbed them of their coin.

Nonetheless, the dwarves had to live among men, for trade was their livelihood.

Occasionally, however, the dwarrow would travel further afield to sell wares to other races in the West. They avoided elves, of course, but the little people of the Shire, though wary of the dwarves, were certainly not cruel like men.

Bofur had never seen one of the little people, though his older cousin Bifur had, before he was injured by an orc axe.

Signing in one of the few ways he could now communicate, Bifur had told him about the little people as he watched Bofur attempt to put the joints in a toy he was working on together.

“ _Some of them are a foot shorter than us. And they have no hair on their faces. It's all on their feet if ye can believe that!”_

“What, like the big men?” asked Bofur.

“ _Aye. Except of course the big men don't have toes that are quite as hairy. But hobbits also have pointed ears like elves and their hair is always curly.”_

“What funny sounding wee creatures!”

“ _Aye, Cousin. But they bring in a fair trade.”_

“Will I ever get to see one, I wonder?” said Bofur aloud.

“ _You're getting better at the toy making. If we make enough of these we might be able to travel West and stop by the Shire one day. The little hobbitlings might like some of these. Here, you've made that joint too tight. Loosen it a little and it'll be perfect. If you--”_

The older dwarf winced a bit and put a hand over his left eye.

“Gettin' one of yer headaches?” asked Bofur, putting down the toy as he moved over to Bifur with concern in his eyes.

Bifur nodded, but shooed him away. _“I think I'll go and lie down. Are ye alright to finish this?”_

“Ye know I am.”

Bifur patted him on the back. “ _Good lad.”_

* * *

Unfortunately Bifur's headache persisted for days, so the toy making stopped for a while.

Bofur picked up his mattock and went back to mining to keep food on the table. Mining was hard work but it did allow him to vent some of the frustration he felt at not being able to better take care of Bifur, at the orc that had injured him, and the fact that he and his family were routinely mocked and spit on whenever they ventured too far from their settlements for work or trade. _Especially_ Bifur. Dwarves were mocked enough, but a dwarf with an axe in his head? People were not kind, and Bofur promised himself he'd never become hardened and cynical like men were, no matter how hard it felt sometimes.

As he hammered into rock, searching for a vein of blue or purple stone within the mountain, his thoughts turned gentler as he worked out the tension and he thought of the little people again and smiled.

Did they really live in holes in the ground? Perhaps they were not so different from dwarves after all if they did. Dwarves lived the mountains, of course, but only men and elves lived above ground as a general rule.

As the days went on, the hobbit lands were Bofur's go to for thoughts to occupy himself with while mining. The more he thought about the Shire, the more he wanted to visit it. He wanted to see the funny little people and their hairy feet, and their tiny hobbitlings and maybe trade some toys for coin and pipeweed.

And maybe they could even stay near the Shire for a while where men wouldn't bother them. And he'd take Bifur with him and look after him and make sure no one hurt or mocked him.

He swung his pick axe into the rock harder. He _needed_ to finish those toys.

* * *

The day's work had finally come to an end, and Bofur walked home from the mines, sore and weary and covered in dust as he usually did. He was eternally grateful when his brother Bombur ushered him inside and fed him a bowl of stew.

“Bofur, there's rock dust falling into yer soup,” Bombur scolded as Bofur's hand was halfway to his mouth.

“M,tired,” grunted Bofur.

“I'm not surprised ye are! You come home, eat, then work on the toys late into the night. Ye don't have to do Bifur's work for him ye know? I'm sure he's grateful enough that you work in the mines all day. Sometimes you don't even take a bath!”

“Here,” Bombur said, and placed some crusty bread and butter next to Bofur's bowl of stew. You eat that, and I'll run a bath for you. Try not to fall _into_ your food. And I _will_ be knocking on the bathroom door periodically to make sure you haven't fallen asleep. Besides, I have some news to tell you.”

Bofur had indeed nearly fallen asleep twice in the tub after washing his hair. As he dried off and put on his long johns, he still felt as if he wanted to curl up on the floor and sleep for a thousand years.

“I'm Durin the Deathless,” he said out loud to himself, swaying back and forth with fatigue and he giggled a bit.

“Brother!” came the voice from the other side of the door. “Don't make me come in there and wash yer back myself! I mean it. I _really_ don't want to.”

“Yer fine!” barked Bofur. “I'm coming out now.”

They sat down at the table and Bombur handed his older brother a cup of sweet tea.

“So what's this news ye wanted to tell me about?” said Bofur, gripping the mug with both hands and enjoying the warmth on his sore fingers.

“Bera and I are getting married!”

“Bombur! That's great news! Come here, you old dog!” He embraced his younger brother, then leaned back to look at him.

“Ye may be the younger of us but I swear ye grew up faster. My little brother, gettin' married!”

Bombur grinned, then his smile faltered. “Aye, only...I'll be movin' out, so we can live together.”

“Of course!” said Bofur, cheerfully, but then the full reality of the situation dawned on him. Who was going to take care of Bifur during the day when he had one of his fits?

As if reading his thoughts, Bombur patted his brother's hand. “He was better today. He even worked a little on the toys. He had to go to sleep soon after, but...”

Bofur nodded, looking up at Bombur with tired, brown eyes.

“Besides,” Bombur was saying. “When I'm gone there will be one less mouth to feed. Ye won't have to work so hard.”

Bofur nodded again. He knew Bombur was right. Having two people under one roof was less expensive than three, and it was ridiculous to expect his brother and future wife to both move into a small home with his older brother and cousin. He knew Bombur had always wanted dwarflings so the family was sure to grow in size and then they _definitely_ wouldn't all be able to fit under one roof. He reached over and patted Bombur on the shoulder. “I'm happy for ye,” he said. “But sweet Mahal, I really think I do need some sleep now.”

“That's what I've been saying all night.”

* * *

Despite Bofur's exhaustion, sleep was late in coming. He lay awake in his bed, staring up at the stone ceiling and thinking about the future.

If he worked hard enough at the toys, maybe there would be enough to bring in a steady income. He was reluctant to leave Bifur on his own for long periods of time, despite the fact that the older dwarf seemed content to sleep most of the day away when he was unwell. Bofur worried a lot for his cousin, who had practically raised him when Bofur and Bombur had lost both their parents to orcs, and then been tragically incapacitated by another orc ambush ten years later. Bifur still had the ability to craft beautiful toys, but it took him so much longer. That was why he'd been trying to pass on the craft to Bofur.

But even if they did make enough toys, who would they sell them to? Men did buy them, but Bofur was tired of the way men made him feel. He never knew if they were going to be kind or cruel and he was always on edge around them, especially if he had Bifur with him. A plan began to formulate in his mind.

“ _What funny sounding wee creatures!”_

“ _Aye, Cousin. But they bring in a fair trade.”_

* * *

**The Shire, 3 months later.**

Bilbo Baggins was thinking _fish_ for tea. Some good, crispy fried fish drizzled with lemon and served with new potatoes and carrots in butter. His mouth watered as he wandered Hobbiton market, scouting the stalls for what he would need for this evening's supper.

He finally settled on a good lemon sole and was paying old Fastolph Thornburrow the fishmonger when a crowd of hobbits ran past him in a hurry.

“Goodness,” he said aloud. “What's the commotion?”

“I guess ye hadn't heard then, Mr. Baggins?”

“Heard about what?”

“Been a few strange folk passing through these parts since this morning. Two dwarves if I'm not mistaken. Sellin' wares.” The fishmonger's eyes narrowed as he said this. Older hobbits were generally mistrustful of outsiders, possibly because they remembered the fell winter. On the other hand, outsiders had also helped the hobbits through the winter, including the wandering wizard Gandalf and the Rangers of Bree who had delivered food to the stranded shirelings, but Fastolph seemed to be remembering more of the bad than the good.

“What are they selling?” asked Bilbo.

“Don't rightly know, sir.”

“I think I'll go have a peek,” said Bilbo, placing the wrapped up fish in his basket.

“Suit yourself.”

Bilbo hurried down the hill in the direction the excited hobbits had run. In the distance he could see a crowd had gathered around a blanket on the grass.

His mother had told him about dwarves. She'd encountered a few on the road when she had gone on adventures. They were travellers and were selling jewels the likes of which she'd never seen. Necklaces and bracelets with stones of every colour! Some stones seemed to contain all colours depending on how the light hit them.

These dwarves, however, didn't seem to be selling anything of the sort. Instead, laid out on a blanket were the most beautiful carved wooden and metal toys, some with moving parts.

A fauntling hesitated near the blanket, then sat down on the grass, looking at the toys in wonder, especially a toy shaped like a little hedgehog.

“Here,” said one of the dwarves cheerfully. He pressed down a catch on the side of the hedgehog and the toy rolled into a ball. The fauntling shrieked with delight and the dwarf laughed merrily at the reaction.

Bilbo regarded both dwarves from a distance. The older of the two had a black, bushy beard streaked with white, and some sort of injury in his head. He seemed to be rather quiet but smiled gently at the hobbits all the same.

The younger dwarf who had been showing the fauntling how the hedgehog toy worked was a rather odd sight as well. He wore a floppy, (rather ridiculous, if Bilbo admitted to himself) hat and his braids stuck out in pigtails. His beard wasn't that bushy, and he had a swooping moustache that wriggled as he laughed.

Bofur had only been around hobbits for a few hours, but he had already decided they were the most adorable creatures he had ever seen, especially the fauntlings. They seemed less wary than the adults, but perhaps that was because they were more drawn to the shiny toys. They also stared a lot at the pair of dwarves, eyeing their beards, braids and Bifur's axe, but their staring was merely out of curiosity rather than unkindness. Bifur had been right about hobbits being unlike men.

The curious fauntling's mother ended up buying the hedgehog toy, and other hobbits began to feel more relaxed enough to also peruse the dwarves' wares.

“I think I'll get us somethin' to eat. Bifur, you alright to mind the things for a few minutes?”

“ _Yes”_ Bifur signed. _“Get me something good. NO meat!”_

“It all smells good,” said Bofur, sniffing the air, and he headed in the direction of the market, nearly tripping into Bilbo, who dropped his basket in surprise.

“Watch yer step,” he grinned at the flustered hobbit. “I wouldn't want to step on yer bare toes with boots like these.” He leaned down and picked up the basket, examining its contents.

“Fish!” said the dwarf. “Oh that's a fine idea for later on when me and Bifur can make a fire.”

“That's _my_ fish,” said Bilbo tartly. “It's _my_ supper.”

The dwarf laughed. “I wasn't going to snatch it! Ye've just made me think of ideas for _our_ supper.”

He handed the basket back to the hobbit.

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry,” said Bilbo, who felt rather embarrassed at his own rudeness.

“I'm used to it, don't trouble yourself,” said the dwarf, but there was no irony in his voice and the corner of his lips were turned up in a soft smile.

“I think...a pie for now would suit us well,” said Bofur, rubbing his gloved hands together excitedly. “Any recommendations as to where I can find one?”

“Of course!” said Bilbo, clearing his throat slightly. It was the least he could do after his presumptuousness. “Turn left on the main street and follow your nose. Mrs. Bolger makes the most _excellent_ pies. She'll even throw in some gravy.”

“Grand!” said the dwarf. “Thanks, Mr...er..?”

“Bilbo,” said the hobbit. “It's Bilbo Baggins.”

“Good to meet you Mr. Baggins. Bofur at your service.” He bowed low.

“Bilbo Baggins... at yours?” said the hobbit tentatively, not used to this form of greeting. Bofur flashed him a grin and strode off in the direction of the market, the sides of his floppy hat bouncing as he walked.

* * *

The next morning as Bilbo passed by the blanket again on his way to the market, he overheard the sound of a flute playing and realised it was Bofur, who was playing a cheerful tune after setting up for the day. Only this time he was alone. Bilbo wondered why his companion wasn't with him.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked over to dwarf. “Good morning. Where's your friend today?”

Bilbo was alarmed to see the dwarf's cheerful smile falter and sadness pass over his craggy features instead.

“Ye mean me cousin Bifur? He's not feeling well. He's spendin' the morning in the wagon until he feels right again.”

“I'm sorry,” said Bilbo. “Is he alright? I mean, in general?”

Bofur hesitated. “He gets funny turns sometimes, on account of the orc axe in his head. Sometimes he needs to sleep. He can only speak in signs or in our own tongue. No Westron. And sometimes...sometimes he doesn't know who he is, and I have to remind him. He gets scared.”

Bilbo was silent, not quite knowing what to say. Bofur saved him by changing the subject.

“Ye got any hobbitlings of your own, Mr. Baggins?”

“Oh, ha. Not me, no,” said the hobbit. “I've never married. And please, just Bilbo will do.”

Bofur smirked. “Don't need to be married to make little ones,” he said, and winked at the hobbit.

Bilbo felt his ears burn red at the brash statement. “Well, be that as it may,” said Bilbo. “It's not something that's done in the Shire.”

“That you know of,” laughed Bofur, who seemed to be making Bilbo even more flustered.

The dwarf noticed how red Bilbo had turned. “Sorry, lad. I forget not everyone appreciates dwarf humour. _Especially_ mine!”

Bilbo's mouth opened and closed as if he was stuck not knowing whether to apologise or admonish Bofur for his teasing.

Bofur tilted his head at the halfling expectantly then something dawned in his expression. “Ach! My apologies. I shouldn't have assumed. You clearly fancy the lads over the lasses, am I right?”

If Bilbo had looked affronted before, now he looked utterly scandalised.

“What in the Valar's name gave you that idea?” he spluttered.

“Well, I was just thinkin' since ye don't have any wee ones, that maybe you had a husband instead of a wife?” Bofur's tone was completely conversational and earnest.

“Or is it like with the Menfolk who say they don't lay with one another but they do behind closed doors so other Men won't find out?”

“It most certainly isn't! I don't know how dwarves do things, but it certainly isn't the way we do things in Hobbiton.”

“What, never?”

“As far as I know, the only couples here are males and females! Why on earth would two males set up house?”

Bofur grinned again as he started winding up one of the metal toys on the blanket. “Fer the same reason I imagine a male and a female might.” He winked at the hobbit again and Bilbo found he was powerless to prevent his face and ears from flushing red.

“I...good day to you!” he muttered, and hurried up the hill as fast as his hairy feet could carry him.

* * *

Bofur returned to the wagon later that evening. It hadn't been a very fruitful day. The weather had clouded over late morning and it had rained on and off, and as a result he'd not had any customers for the rest of the day.

The only highlight of his day had been teasing Bilbo. Watching the halfling become flustered was rather amusing. Even when hobbits looked angry they still looked enchanting. Nevertheless, he thought it prudent to not mention the subject of their discussion to any other hobbits. He wasn't sure if they would all react as harmlessly as Bilbo did.

“How're ye feelin', **irik'nadad**?” asked the miner as he climbed into the wagon. “I brought ye some fresh vegetables from the market. Not keen on this stuff meself, but whatever floats yer boat.”

Bifur took the food gratefully and bit into a carrot.

“I saw that hobbit again today,” said Bofur. “Ye know the one I nearly tripped over yesterday? Fussy little fellow. I like talkin' to him.”

Bifur nodded and started on a tomato.

Bofur could tell Bifur wasn't in a talkative mood. That was alright. He knew sometimes Bifur wasn't conversational, even forgoing Iglishmek and Khuzdul at times. He patted his cousin on the shoulder and went to sit on the stairs leading out of the wagon.

He looked up at the stars as he lit his pipe. The only sounds were the soft call of crickets and the occasional laugh across the lake. The Shire was so much more peaceful than Ered Luin. He wished he didn't have to go back in a few weeks. Taking a deep breath from his pipe, he blew out a huge puff of smoke and tried to ignore his heart ache. There was no point in worrying about it now. He may as well enjoy his time here.

He thought about the halfling again and realized while he had spilled a lot of his history to Bilbo, he didn't know much about the hobbit yet, other than he had a liking for fish at supper and seemed to be easily scandalised.

He eyed a piece of wood on the grass near the wagon, picked it up and started carving. Perhaps a gift would break the ice.


	2. Stay a while

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia ruins things. Bilbo and Bofur get to know each other.
> 
> Some warnings:  
> Past mention of abuse in a fugue state.

Bofur finished carving the basis of his design and put it to the side for the night. He'd work on the details tomorrow. By then Bifur was snoring loudly, and Bofur still wasn't feeling tired, so he remained on the stairs of the wagon looking up at the sky and thinking and smoking his pipe.

It wasn't as hard as it used to be, he reminded himself. Years ago, days and weeks and even months after Bifur's war injury things had been so much worse. Bofur had been just out of pebblehood and he and Bombur had found themselves tasked with looking after their cousin. That in itself was hard enough, but they both loved Bifur, and he had raised them when their parents had died, so they would never abandon him willingly if they could help it.

But it wasn't without its major obstacles. In the first few years following his injury, Bifur had sometimes been violent. Bofur didn't blame him. He knew Bifur wasn't aware of what he was doing and was likely reliving what had happened to him and did not recognise where he was, but he'd managed to clock Bofur a few times, while the miner had tried to shield Bombur, and it hurt Bofur's heart more than his bruised face.

Still, they would not abandon Bifur, and slowly but surely the violent mood swings vanished, to be replaced with fugue states and headaches. Bofur would not lie to himself and say he never found things immensely hard, but he never resented his cousin for it.

Bombur met a dwarrowdam a few years later and Bofur told him to seize the day. The cook had protested that their care of Bifur should be evenly split, but Bofur insisted that his little brother enjoy being with his love for longer periods. After all, pairings were rare amoung their people.

It wasn't that Bofur hadn't thought about it, thought about having someone to warm his bed. He'd had a few tumbles like any dwarrow his age, but that was different than coming home to be held by someone under the covers. Sometimes he'd imagine what that someone might look like. How long would their beard be? What would their craft be like? Their laugh? But most of all he imagined someone kind and understanding and willing to listen to his problems. He would be sure he'd love them back a thousandfold.

But he had no time, and the one dwarf who had been making an attempt to court him had backed out when they realized how much time Bofur needed to devote to Bifur.

He'd lie in bed at the end of a long day and imagine what it would be like to be held. It was one of his favourite times of the day because he had only his own thoughts and they were completely devoted to soothing his tired soul.

Bilbo was in a foul mood. The morning had started with Lobelia interrupting his first breakfast by pounding on his door and demanding to be seen. He had hidden under the table until she went away again.

Then he had gathered up his basket and some money and began to head to the market as he did on most mornings, to get some ingredients for _second_ breakfast. Only this time Lobelia was waiting for him on the path.

“Bilbo Baggins, why on earth are you avoiding me?

“I'm just trying to go about my day, Lobelia,” said Bilbo through gritted teeth, his left eye twitching uncontrollably.

“Well we can talk as we walk,” said Lobelia, either not getting the hint or deliberately ignoring it and steadfastly walking alongside the flustered Mr. Baggins as he tried to be shaken of her.

“As I was saying last time, before you rudely slammed the door on me,” Lobelia was saying, “I think you should know Hobbiton is beginning to _talk_. You're 51 and you've still not settled down with a wife or had any fauntlings. All that space in Bag End is just going to waste and that just doesn't seem fair!”

Bilbo tried walking faster, but she kept up the pace. “Are you listening to me? You can't stay a bachelor forever!”

“Watch me!” snarled Bilbo, and he began to run. Anything to shake off that old bat. He kept throwing glances over his shoulder as he ran. He was surprised at how speedy Lobelia was.

“Bilbo Baggins, if you don't stop this instant I'll--”

In his haste to escape Lobelia, Bilbo had tripped over Bofur's blanket, which had the triple effect of knocking over many of the dwarf's carvings, giving Bilbo a nasty splinter in his foot and crashing into Bofur.

The result was a tangle of limbs and blanket on the ground and a very bemused miner.

Confronted with the sight before him, Bifur laughed, though it came out as more of a cackle than anything else. Bilbo had managed to somehow get the blanket wound around his leg and had fallen straight into Bofur's lap, their legs tangled together haphazardly. Bilbo gingerly raised his head to look at the dwarf, and was about to apologise, when Lobelia reminded him of just why he had been running.

“This is you all over, isn't it, Bilbo Baggins?” said Lobelia. “Cavorting with miscreants like dwarves!”

Bifur growled a warning sound.

“Oi! Who ye callin' miscreants?” demanded Bofur.

But Lobelia was looking quite alarmed now, because she had spotted the axe in the older dwarf's head.

Bifur barked something in Khuzdul that sounded frightful to the lady's pointed ears, but she gave him one more defiant look and stormed off.

Bilbo let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

“Well! What was that about?” asked Bofur, helping the hobbit untangle himself from the blanket by lifting a large furry foot.

“That,” said a flustered Bilbo. “Was Lobelia Bracegirdle. The most wretched woman I've ever had the displeasure of coming across.”

“Didn't know you had to beat them off with a stick,” grinned the dwarf.

“She doesn't want _me_. She wants Bag End...that's the name of my home.”

“No wonder yer not keen on getting' married then, Mr. Baggins. Not with snakes like that about.” He leaned forward, conspiratorial, and whispered. “If yer not careful she might wrap her dragon tail around yer foot and then ye'll never get away.”

“Please, just 'Bilbo' will do,” said the hobbit, who was trying not to smile at Bofur's colourful description of Lobelia.

“Alright then, Bilbo,” said the dwarf, grinning lazily. The hobbit mused that it looked like the dwarf might have smoke a bit too much pipeweed in his lifetime, but his toothy smile did make Bilbo feel more at ease.

Bilbo looked down at the carvings Bifur was checking over. “Oh no. I hope I haven't broken any,” he groaned, and sat down to try to get the splinter out of his foot. Hobbit feet were hard to pierce, but the sliver of wood had managed.

“ _One broken,”_ Bifur signed.

“It's alright,” said Bofur. “It's easily fixed.” He was more concerned about the hobbit.

“Ugh, it's well and truly stuck in there,” grumbled Bilbo. “I suppose I better limp home and try to find something I can get it out with.”

“Let me,” said Bofur, and Bilbo was about to retort that Bofur's fingers were a lot thicker than his were so he wasn't going to do any more of a good job with it, but then Bofur removed what looked like a pair of forceps from his tool bag.

“Hold still,” said Bofur. “I'm no doctor.”

“Yes, I can see that,” replied Bilbo, who felt a bit concerned at the gleam in Bofur's eye.

Bofur grinned, gently took Bilbo's furry foot in his hand to steady it, then very, very delicately used the forceps to pull out the sliver of wood. It looked evil and tinged with red in the morning light.

“That's a belter,” remarked the miner. “Gotta keep that one for my collection.”

“I beg your pardon??”

Bilbo groaned when he saw the smirk under the moustache and realized Bofur had been joking.

“Ye okay to stand?”

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'm really sorry about your carvings though.”

“No harm done. As I said, only one got chipped and it's easily fixed.” He handed Bilbo his market basket, and the hobbit took it gratefully.

“Right,” said Bilbo, “I suppose I better go and do the morning shop.”

Bofur nodded. “Have a good day Mr—I mean, have a good day, Bilbo. Always a pleasure to talk to ye.”

The miner watched the little figure hurry up towards the market.

It wasn't until an hour later that he realized they were getting no customers.

At first, Bofur assumed it was merely a slow day, but eventually he began to notice a few hobbits shooting him dirty looks.

He smiled broadly at them in an attempt to appear friendly and approachable, but this just seemed to invite further snotty glances.

After a while, Bofur began to feel uncomfortable enough that he felt he needed to ask what was amiss. “Excuse me?” he called to a hobbit lass holding a fauntling's hand. “I can't help but notice that people are staring at us odd like...have I got somethin' stuck in my teeth?” He smiled, trying for humour but was surprised to see the hobbit lass clutch her fauntling to her breast and looked at the dwarves as if she felt they were about to hurt the wee one.

This in particular alarmed Bofur, for he'd never hurt a child and was puzzled as to why she seemed to think so. As he watched her hurry away he turned to Bifur. “I think it might be a good idea to pack up for today. At least until we figure out what's goin' on, eh?”

* * *

Around dusk Bofur began to gather up wood to make a fire at the campsite, which thankfully the hobbits seemed to be avoiding. He was half worried they were going to turn up with pitchforks.

He couldn't understand what they'd done wrong, or at least been _perceived_ to have done wrong.

When he finally returned to the campsite, Bifur was sitting near the unlit fire, staring into nothingness.

The miner dropped his bag and hurriedly helped his cousin sit down on a nearby log instead of the ground.

“Bifur? Can ye hear me?”

The older dwarf continued to stare into into thin air and Bofur sighed softly. So Bifur was having an episode. Bofur hoped his cousin hadn't been sitting there too long. The air was beginning to feel a bit nippy.

The miner found some dry kindling and then lit the fire with some flint sparks he took from the pouch on his belt. Eventually he had a steady flame going and sat down next to his cousin, draping a blanket over the older dwarf's shoulders.

The warm light flickered off Bifur's face, reflecting in his faraway eyes as if it was a surrogate for the liveliness that used to be there.

“Is he alright?”

Bofur nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the hobbit's voice.

“By Durin! I didn't even hear you coming!” said Bofur, sighing in relief when he realized who it was.

“I didn't mean to sneak up. I guess hobbits don't make as much noise as dwarves do when they move around.”

“They surely don't!”

“If I've come at a bad time, then...”

“Ah, no. Yer fine. In answer to your question, Bifur has moments like these sometimes. Just as long as ye haven't come here to _stare_.”

Bilbo didn't miss the protective implication in the last word, and realized that Bifur and Bofur must have dealt with their fair share of mockery over the older dwarf's condition.

“I didn't come to stare at all,” said the halfling. “I came to apologise.”

Bilbo continued at the look of confusion on Bofur's face: “Lobelia,” he explained. “If it weren't for me she wouldn't have spread all that gossip around the Shire about you two.

Bofur's eyes softened as he realized what had happened. “None of that, lad. It sounds like she's a nasty piece of work and that's got nought to do with you.” He gestured at the hobbit to take a seat near the fire. “Besides, I've heard worse.”

“I brought you something too,” said Bilbo. “Both of you.” And pulled a pie out of his shopping basket.

“It's apple and blackberry,” said Bilbo. I hope Bifur likes it.”

“Aye, he'll eat that in a pinch, once he comes round.” Bofur motioned for the halfling to take a spot by the fire, and Bilbo sat, cross-legged in the grass next to Bifur.

“I'll cut you a slice, Bifur,” said Bilbo, and he did so, pulling out some chinaware from his basket. He slid the pie slice onto the plate and settled it next to Bifur.

_Well that was new,_ thought Bofur. Usually when Bifur was in a trance people would refer to Bofur. They would have been more likely to say something like: “I'll cut Bifur a slice and he can eat it later,” rather than speaking directly _to_ Bifur.

Then something even better happened while Bilbo was passing Bofur his own plate. Bifur picked up the slice and began eating it. The older dwarf nodded appreciatively at the taste, then signed towards Bilbo.

“He says it's delicious. And that he's not had better when it comes to apple pie,” translated Bofur.

“You're very welcome,” said the hobbit, and Bifur smiled warmly at the little creature sat next to him.

Bofur smiled. Bifur wasn't quick to warm to strangers, but he seemed completely at ease with Bilbo and the feeling appeared to be mutual.

"We'll save the rest for when we're out on the road tomorrow," said Bofur, softly. He didn't like the idea of having to move on but it was clear they weren't going to get any further business in Hobbiton.

“Don't go,” said Bilbo. He still felt somewhat responsible for what Lobelia had done, but he also didn't want the dwarves to leave, because... Why did he not want them to leave? _Oh._

He realized he was very much starting to enjoy their company.

Bilbo was often lonely and had been since his mother had passed away. While he had passing acquaintances with hobbits in the Shire, he couldn't say he had any close friends.

Bifur had finished his slice and was now looking about for any delicious flowers that could make a nice entremet. He carefully put them into his beard for later.

"I doubt we'll be selling much here after what happened...and don't apologise for that. I could tell you were going to." Bofur watched Bilbo's nose twitch as if he'd been about to protest.

“Well, I insist that you come and visit me for dinner before you leave! Both of you!” said the halfling.

Bifur pulled a flower out of his beard and put it behind Bilbo's ear.

“Um, thank you Bifur.”

A slow grin spread across Bofur's face as he watched them both. He'd never seen his cousin be at ease with someone so quickly.

“Aye, we'd like that,” said the miner.

“Excellent!” said Bilbo, slapping his knee, then he stood up and stretched. “I should be getting back,” he said. “It's almost time for supper.”

“Mahal! Just how many meals do you hobbits have a day?” asked Bofur.

“Seven, usually,” said the hobbit. As if on cue, his stomach growled.

“Well I won't keep you,” laughed Bofur. Bilbo nodded once and left as he came, with soft footfall.

Bofur watched him go with a strange pang.

* * *

Bilbo wasn't sure he had enough varieties of cheese.

There was a smooth, hard white from Tookborough and a crumbly red from Bree, as well as numerous soft cheeses to spread across crackers he'd purchased from the food market earlier that day, but he still felt it wasn't enough.

He'd never felt _excited_ about guests before. At least not since he was a fauntling and the wizard Gandalf turned up with his fireworks. Normally he was content to be left on his own and wasn't interested in the comings and goings of others. But the dwarves were so _exciting_. They told stories of their travels and they crafted wonderful things, and they were full of life and knew a lot about the outside world his mother had told him stories about. Stories about things his heart sometimes yearned to see.

He liked them both very much, though if he was honest with himself, he especially enjoyed Bofur's company. It had nothing to do with Bifur's method of communication, Bofur was just so easygoing and comfortable to be around, even if he had a propensity for bawdy jokes.

Bilbo fretted over the cheese some more and forced himself to leave it be and attend to the main course--- a chicken pie with roast potatoes and buttered carrots as a side. He'd also made a smaller vegetable pie for Bifur and some fruit plates for everyone to snack on. He was just about to start fretting about which bottle of wine to serve when the doorbell rang.

“Just a moment!” he called, and padded over to the door.

He was met with Bofur's grinning face and ridiculous hat flaps. But...no Bifur?

“It's just me,” said Bofur. “Bifur sends his apologies but he's got another headache coming on and he'd rather rest now than risk it flaring up during travel. I asked if he wanted me to stay but he damn near threw me out of the wagon.” The dwarf chuckled. “Besides, would have been rude not to turn out without tell....dear _Mahal_ , what is that glorious smell?”

“You're just in time. The pie has just come out of the oven. It just needs to cool a little. Come in!”

Bofur followed the hobbit into the smial, after he removed his boots and dropped his satchel in the hallway, as Bilbo had instructed. Although the glorious scent of dinner was highly distracting, the interior of Bag End wasn't lost on the dwarf.

Straight away he realized that Bilbo was of a higher class than the other hobbits he'd encountered at the market. Portraits of important looking hobbits hung over the round fireplace and rich tapestries covered the living room furniture. A stack of books sat next to Bilbo's armchair. Bofur wished he knew how to read, but there was no time for book learning when you were trying to make ends meet and put food on the table.

The place still had a personal touch though. Bilbo had decorated the mantlepiece with pine cones, small plants and glasses full of shiny feathers. It was a lovely, cosy place and Bofur suddenly understood Lobelia's longing for it.

“Take a seat and I'll just grab us a bottle of wine,” Bilbo said as they entered the kitchen, and Bofur realized he'd been gawking at the place. He'd never seen inside a hobbit hole before. True, it didn't have the splendour of Dwarven habitations, but it was lovely all the same and still a work of craftsmanship. All curves instead of angles.

“Here we are,” said Bilbo. “Some of the old Winyard.”

* * *

Four glasses later, Bofur's table manners notwithstanding, Bilbo was having a merry time. Bofur kept telling him that Bilbo's cooking rivaled that of his brother back in Ered Luin but that “Bilbo shouldn't tell him that.”

Bilbo was too tipsy to point out that he hadn't even met Bofur's brother and therefore was unlikely to tell him anything of the sort, so he just nodded and Bofur gave him a wink that in his alcohol fueled state looked more like a lazy eye.

Despite being full of wine and merriment, the dwarf was still startled when Bilbo grabbed his hands and attempted to pull the dwarf to his feet. It was an impossible feat, of course. Bofur was too heavy and Bilbo looked a little ridiculous ( _not to mention adorable_ ) trying to pull the dwarf upright. 

Bofur stood up on his own and allowed himself to be led by the giddy halfling. 

"I've not given your a proper tour of the place!" said Bilbo. 

"Oh, aye?"

* * *

Bofur's head spun as he tried to remember all the names of Bilbo's many relatives. Hobbits had so many children! They were walking past the bedroom when a flash of colour caught Bofur's eye.

"What's that?"

Bilbo looked over his shoulder to where he was pointing.

Spread out on the bed was one of the most beautiful garments Bofur had ever seen.

“Oh...It was my mother's,” explained Bilbo. “Each patch was from different fabric traders that had come through the Shire. Some were even Dwarvish.” Bilbo pointed to a bright blue patch with geometric shapes, and another that donned embroidery in the shape of a raven. “I...I still wear it sometimes when it's cold and I want to feel comforted,” said the hobbit, sadly. “My mother was a Took. She was adventurous and always interested in things outside the Shire. She even went to see dwarves and elves. But she stopped doing that when she settled down with my father. I would have liked to have seen things that she did before that. I'm...I'm a Baggins though. And we're respectable and don't do things like that.”

Bofur felt that was a strange custom—to mould one's behaviour around a family name, but he kept quiet about it.

At any rate, he was touched. Not only at the thought of the little hobbit needing and wanting comfort, but also at the knowledge that Bilbo was wearing a part of his culture and wanted to know more about it.

It was true that the dwarves were a secretive race, and with good reason. Language especially was well guarded, but Bifur had been using Iglishmek and Khuzdul around Bilbo and Bofur had let him because he didn't have the heart to tell Bifur not to speak using the only means he now had, and because there was something about the halfling that felt trustworthy.

He pointed to the patch with the raven on it. “This is Roac,” said Bofur. He's an important raven to dwarves. He was a messenger to the kings of Erebor...before. Before the dragon came.”

“Dragon?”

“Aye. The dwarves of Erebor were forced out sixty years ago when Smaug the Golden took over the mountain.”

“Where are they now?” asked Bilbo.

“Mostly scattered,” said Bofur. “That includes the Prince and what is left of his family. They came to the Blue Mountains and resettled.”

“That's a sad story.”

Bofur smiled softly. “It's not all bad, Laddie. They made a life for themselves there, just like my family did when they were run out of Moria.”

Bofur had done it again. He had spilled so much to the halfling without even being prompted. He just felt Bilbo was so easy to talk to. He wanted more of that feeling. "Share a pipe with me?"

* * *

They sat on the roof of Bilbo's home, smoking their pipes.

“You know,” Bilbo was saying, “I haven't had a guest in years." He turned his pipe around in his hands, fidgeting. "Apart from Hamfast Gamgee who does the garden now and then, not many people are eager to talk to me. And if they are, they're after Bag End like Lobelia is."

"I can assure you that as lovely as yer home is, I've no intentions of running out out of it and setting up shop."

"I didn't think you did."

"Tempted to raid yer pantry again though, not gonna lie."

Halfway into the bowl Bofur's tongue was loose and wagging again and he began to tell Bilbo the story of when his friend Nori had stolen some jewelry from a lass he'd spent the night with.

Bofur cackled. “He was naked, but he found a place to hide it, if you get my meaning.”

“That's so crude!” cried Bilbo, but he was laughing at the same time, even to the point of tears. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Bofur's eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Oh Aye, it's true,” he said, putting one hand on his chest and raising his other in an attempt to look sincere, though he was sure the hobbit saw right through it. “She chased him through the street and the thing started dangling out! Hard to keep stealthy when there's a sapphire winking near your arse.”

Bilbo rolled over, clutching his stomach as he tried to keep his breathing under control, but he continued to wheeze and laugh for nearly a minute.

A grin began to form around Bofur's pipe, and he could hold it in no longer. He snorted and started laughing as well.

After wiping away their tears of mirth, the two friends lay back in the grass and gazed up at the stars. Bofur turned his head to the left to look at the hobbit. Bilbo was smiling as he looked up at the night sky. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were sparkling. The pipeweed made Bofur feel warm and calm and he threaded his fingers through the hobbit's and squeezed the halfling's hand gently. After a moment, Bilbo squeezed back and they both continued to look up at the heavens, both feeling content and warm and a tad wistful at the knowledge that tomorrow Bofur would be back on the road.

Bilbo bit his lip, as if gearing himself up to say the words, then softly: “Can't you stay? Just for a few more days?” He looked away suddenly, in an attempt to hide his reddening face.

Bofur knew he shouldn't. He knew they really ought to move on to other parts of the Shire to sell toys to people who hadn't been poisoned by Lobelia's gossip. He ought to make the most of the time and sell as much as he could then head back to the Blue Mountains.

But something about the small creature before him tugged at him in ways he didn't fully understand. He'd been so long without a friend, especially with all the time he'd spent looking after the family. He rarely saw Nori lately, but that had to do with Nori often getting himself into trouble. Bifur warned him not to spend too much time in the thief's company, but Bofur latched onto social contact when he could find it, especially if ale was involved.

Despite how affable the dwarf was, he wasn't great at making friends. He often said the wrong things. Blurted things out without much thought or tact behind them, even if they were true. "Stuck your foot in your mouth again" as his mother used to say.

He didn't care. He wanted that little face grinning up at him warmly. He wanted Bilbo's friendship. 

"Alright," he said.


	3. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to patch things up with the townsfolk and Bofur has an internal crisis.

“You did _what?_ You could have consulted me first!”

Bofur fidgeted awkwardly, his hands tugging at his braids. 

“Aye, I know. Yer right...it’s just…”

“Just what?” signed Bifur.

“I’ve just not had that many friends lately, aye? _We’ve_ not had that many friends lately. But yer correct. I should have spoken with ye first.” The younger dwarf got to his feet. “If ye like I could go talk to him now and tell him we really do need to be leavin’ soon after all.”

He visibly wilted at the thought, and Bifur must have noticed, because his expression softened. 

“No, irik-nadad. An extra day won’t hurt. If that’s what you want. Besides, maybe I can sample more of that hobbit cuisine you brought me last night.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a rather fine day and Bilbo felt like being lazy. It had been a while since he’d had a hangover, and while it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, he still felt fuzzy in between the ears. 

He hobbled over to the bench outside his door, still wearing his bath robe, and started packing his pipe. The air smelt of flowers and heat and the lazy buzzing of bees made him feel sleepy. At the same time, he was secretly wishing something exciting would happen. He wondered what Bofur was doing at that very moment. 

Truth be told he was itching to run down to the dwarves’ campsite as fast as his furry feet could carry him, but he didn’t want to appear desperate for social contact. He was very good at being on his own. Why was today any different?

He realized he’d forgotten the matches for his pipe, and was about to head back into the hole to get it, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and the bouncing top of a floppy hat came into view over the hill, followed by an axe-adorned scruffy head. 

Bilbo checked himself in time before he leapt off the bench in a flurry of embarrassing excitement. Instead he sat back with a big grin on his face as he watched his visitors approach. Bofur carried a small canvas bag over his shoulder. Both dwarves still looked as if they were wearing far too many layers for the warmth of the Shire.

“Aye, Bilbo! How’s yer head?”

The hobbit chuckled in response. “Took a while, but I started feeling better after second breakfast.”

“Second breakfast! Where do ye put it all? Yer tiny but eat more than a man!”

Bifur cackled and said something in Khuzdul while pointing at the hobbit. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” said Bilbo, feeling dreadfully embarrassed at this fact.

“That’s probably a good thing,” said Bofur. “See, we aren’t really supposed to speak in our tongue around folks that aren’t kin.”

“Then why does he?”

Bofur shrugged. “It’s the only way he _can_ speak.”

“Oh…”

“I can still translate for ye, but I’d rather ye talk to Bifur when he’s talkin’ to you if ye get my meanin’.”

“Of course!” Bilbo nodded. “Er...what was it you said?” he asked Bifur. 

“Oh he just said it must be the reason hobbit feet are so big.”

“Zantulbasn” nodded Bifur, poking Bilbo with his index finger so that he swayed backwards a little. 

“Zantal...bash?” asked Bilbo.

“Aye. ‘Hairyfoot’! It’s what we call hobbits.” Bofur chirped.

Bilbo bristled. “I say...that’s a bit...it…”

“It’s accurate, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…”

“Yer feet are indeed hairy, are they not?”

“Yes, but...you...you can’t just go _blurting_ things out like that to people you pass by! How would you like it if people called you ‘hairy face’ or ‘big ears’?” Bilbo had one hand on his hip and the other was wagging a finger in Bofur’s face. The dwarf felt oddly charmed by the sight.  
“I don’t see the problem,” said Bofur truthfully. We _do_ have hairy faces and big ears. I’d be far more offended if ye said my face was bare.”

“ _My_ face is bare.”

“That’s different. Yer a hobbit. And because yer a hobbit yer feet are hairy and ye should feel no shame about it.”

“I...what...I don’t feel _shame_ …” Bilbo began, but then he sighed and smiled to himself. His head still felt too fuzzy for this conversation.

“Look, why don’t you two just come in? I’ll put the kettle on then we can discuss what happened in town.”

The dwarrow followed Bilbo into the smail and Bifur looked around in awe while the hobbit flitted around filling up the kettle and looking for some biscuits. 

“Nice place, isn’t it?” grinned Bofur. “I told you it was grand.”

“Here we are,” said Bilbo, plating up the biscuits and filling the teapot up. The dwarves sat down and began munching on the biscuits without preamble. After about a minute of listening to chewing and slurping, Bilbo cleared his throat. 

Both dwarves looked up with a biscuit halfway to their mouths.

“I think,” said Bilbo, “We should look at how we can get Hobbiton to warm to you again.”

Bifur cocked his head as if to say “how?”

“Well for one thing Lobelia is kind of _known_ as a gossip. We just need to convince people that’s all it was. The trouble is Hobbiton quite _enjoys_ gossip. It gives everyone something exciting to talk about.”

“What was it she actually said?” asked Bofur.

“You know, I’m not too sure. I just heard bits of information here and there and knew when I heard my name mentioned that Lobelia had been behind it all.”

Bofur nodded. It was probably best not knowing what that draconic harpy had been saying about them. He’d heard enough from men. 

“So what’s the plan?”

The halfling rubbed his chin in thought, and crinkled up his nose. Bofur felt a strange sort of pang at the sight, and decided it must be that the tea was making him feel more lively again.  
“I think you two should come shopping with me,” said Bilbo, after a moment. “If people see what you’re actually like during my daily activities it might make things go back to normal.”

“And what do you expect us to do while shopping with you?”

“Just…” Bilbo was about to say “act normal” but perhaps those weren’t the right choice of words. For one thing, what was normal for a dwarf might not be normal for a hobbit. 

“Just follow my lead.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their first stop was Fastolph Thornburrow’s market stall. Bilbo wanted to make sure that the most disapproving hobbits were met first, to stop any further gossip in its tracks.

As he expected, Fastolph greeted them with a suspicious scowl. “Good morning, Mr. Thornburrow,” said Bilbo politely. “Lovely weather we’re having isn’t it?” It was banal conversation, but Bilbo was hoping it would bring back some semblance of normality.

“Hmph,” said Fastolph, folding his arms. “Is there a reason you’re keeping company with these strange folk?”

Bifur and Bofur shifted uncomfortably behind Bilbo. Bofur wanted to shout some salty reply, possibly full of profanities, but they’d had that talk with Bilbo already about how it wasn’t a good idea.

“Well, yes. They’re my friends,” continued Bilbo. “And very well mannered too.” The halfling thought back to earlier this morning, where Bofur had burped loudly at the table and Bifur had wiped his beard with the tablecloth.

“That’s not what Miss Bracegirdle was saying.”

“Yes...well. You know Lobelia. She’ll never miss an opportunity to badmouth me, so it’s understandable that she would extend that to my company by association.”

“So...it’s really _you_ she has a problem with?”

“Naturally. You know she’s always wanted Bag End and she’s angry that she’ll never get it. I have no intentions of being courted by her.”

Fastolph rubbed his chin. “That does make a bit more sense. She was saying things like ‘Bilbo is hanging around with ruffians. Maybe they’ll try to swindle the town and Bilbo too.”  
“Goodness, no! These people are toymakers, just trying to make a living like you.”

“Aye!” said Bofur, who was beginning to feel a bit more confident. He ran his fingertops over the carving he’d made for Bilbo in his bag. He’d give it to him after this business was done. 

“I’d be happy to make somethin’ for yer little ‘uns if you have any?” He figured there was a good chance Fastolph did. He’d noticed how prolific hobbits were.

“I have grandchildren,” said Fasltolph.

“I’d be happy to make them somethin’ for free. As a taster? If yer willing to trade a fish or two?”

Bofur couldn’t resist trying to bargain. _That_ was something Fastolph could respect.

“Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Dwarf.”

“Call me Bofur,” said the dwarf, shaking Fastolph’s hand a bit too vigorously for the older hobbit’s liking, but he nodded all the same. 

As they walked off with their newly acquired lunch, Bofur patted Bilbo on the back. “Thanks, Lad. That was some smooth talking on yer part.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I’ve had years of practice.”

“It’s still impressive,” said Bofur. He felt touched that Bilbo was willing to go out of his way to mend their reputation.

Bilbo responded with a little smile. He looked almost embarrassed but pleased at the same time. Bofur felt that pang again.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They moved on to the greengrocer, then the butcher, then finally a dairy farmer to get a wheel of cheese. 

Bofur watched as Bilbo was finalising the deal with the dairy farmer, his little brow furrowed in exasperation as he tried negotiating a price.

Bilbo looked adorable when he was exasperated. He looked adorable when he was excited. He looked adorable when he smiled at Bofur. _Especially_ when he smiled at Bofur.

Bofur paused, his heart thudding in his chest. He had assumed he found Bilbo adorable because he was a Hobbit, like the rest of them. But that wasn't all there was to it, was there? It was Bilbo _specifically_ who made him feel this way when he smiled at him. That soft, curly hair, those pools of blue and that fussy little nose twitch. Bofur wondered how soft Bilbo's hair really was and stopped himself just in time from reaching out to test it. 

"You still not over the drink?" Bifur gestured next to him.

Bofur shoved Bifur with his elbow. 

"What's gotten into you?" the elder dwarf barked in khuzdul.

How could this be happening? How? Bilbo wasn't even a dwarf. And what was it he had said? That two males couldn't have that kind of relationship in the Shire anyway? Maybe hobbits were too different after all. But it was too late for that now, wasn't it? Bofur sure could pick them. It was always someone unattainable or someone who ended up using him somehow. That was why he'd restricted himself to the occasional tumble and only dreamt about more when he was tucked in bed and couldn't make a fool of himself. When he could let his guard down.

Of course he had assumed he could let his guard down here in the Shire because there were no other dwarves around, but of course he had to go and trip up there too and fall for this quite frankly bewitching little creature. Bewitching _and_ unattainable. Suddenly the carving he had in his bag seemed dreadfully inadequate for such a creature. Bilbo deserved something more intricate and ornate.

Bofur must have been mentally flagellating himself for some time, because he'd only just noticed Bifur was waving a hand in front of his face.

He flinched then grinned at his cousin. "Sorry, aye. I think I may have actually gone over my limit last night."

"That's impressive for you. Maybe you're finally growing up." 

Bofur shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He actually felt more out of his depth than ever, and he suspected that later, he’d have to ask Bifur for some advice.


	4. Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur and Bofur have a talk and Bilbo gets an eyeful.

The walk back to the campsite after Bilbo had bid them good evening was one that was uncharacteristically silent, and Bifur was determined to get to the bottom of why that was.

_ “Bofur…is there something you’re not telling me?” _

“Hm?” said Bofur, feigning nonchalance.

_ “Only it’s not usual for your mouth to be so  _ shut _.” _

“Ye worry too much about me.”

_ “Isn’t that what family is supposed to do? You’ve worried about me enough.” _

Bofur stopped in mid step and slowly turned to meet his cousin’s eyes. “You’ll judge,” he said, fiddling nervously with the straps of his bag.

_ “Try me.” _

Bofur took a deep breath and chewed his bottom lip. “It…it’s the hobbit.”

_ “What about the hobbit?” _

“I might…fancy him a bit.” The miner braced himself for an onslaught of disapproval from his cousin, but to his surprise, he got loud cackling from Bifur instead.  _ “Is that all?” _ crowed Bifur.  _ “I was worried you were going to tell me he was manipulating us somehow.” _

“Bilbo would never!”

_ “Aye, he wouldn’t. He seems a good lad. But I’m relieved that all you have to tell me is you’re a bit infatuated with a hobbit.” _

Bofur laughed, perhaps harder than he meant to. Yes, it had to be infatuation. Bilbo was a hobbit, after all. And Dwarves did not take hobbits for partners. Not that he’d ever heard of, anyway. But if they did, wouldn’t they keep something like that secret? No, no he couldn’t start thinking about things like that. And Bilbo didn’t even know how he felt anyway, so he was getting ahead of himself.

“Well, it’s a bit of craic, isn’t it?” 

_ “Aye. Just be sure it stays that way. Don’t want you gettin’ your heart broken again.” _

“Fat chance of that happening. Anyway, isn’t it your turn to cook tonight?”

They spent the evening eating their stew by lamplight, and adjusting joints and cogs in the toys they hadn’t sold yet. Bifur glanced up at Bofur now and then, took in the concentration in the younger dwarf’s face and mused that in that moment, Bofur looked very much like his father. Bombur had taken after their mother, a Firebeard with spirit to match, while Bofur had inherited the darker Broadbeam features of his father.

He wished he could look after the younger dwarf the way he used to. Bofur had been kind of an emotional wreck at times. He gave his heart too easily and Bifur was damned if he was going to see it break again. Hopefully Bofur’s feelings for the hobbit were just a passing fancy. Nothing  _ could _ happen, anyway. And that was better than something happening then ending.

Bofur hummed as he worked. He couldn’t deny his mind was filled with thoughts of Bilbo, and it made him feel light as air. He was so absorbed in this thoughts that he didn’t realize he had a stupid smile on his face until he glanced up and saw Bifur staring at him.

Bofur gave everything away when he felt his face turn scarlet.

_ “Cousin. We do need to talk about this.” _

“Do we?”

_ “You cannot get involved with the  _ **_Zantulbasn._ ** _ He is not a dwarf and does not understand our ways.” _

“Who says that anyone will be gettin’ involved?”

_ “I can see it in your face. It’s the same look you had when you met Austri.” _

Bofur’s hand stilled. “Austri was a mistake,” he muttered. I don’t need you to remind me what a fool I was, aye?”

_ “You were not a fool! Austri mistreated you and I don’t want another taking advantage of your generosity.” _

“He hasn’t though! Bilbo’s been nothing but generous to us.”

_ “Be that as it may, you need to guard your heart, cousin. Do not give it so freely.” _

“Maybe what I do with my heart is my own business,” grumbled the younger dwarf. He put down the small cart he’d been working on. 

_ “Of course it is. You’re an adult and have been for a while but we are not in the best position for chasing impossible dreams.” _

“This bothers ye more than you initially let on.”

_ “Because I had time to think about it.” _

Bofur suddenly felt like a little dwarfling being scolded, and so acted accordingly by throwing the small cart out of the wagon.

“Maybe I’m tired of being told what to do when I’m the one who  _ always _ has to be the adult around here!” he shouted. “What’s wrong with a bit of fun?”

_ “Is that all it will be though, cousin? Fun?” _

Bofur glared at him, shoving down the tears that were threatening to pour, hot and salty down his face.

“You take the wagon,” he snapped. It’s warm enough that I’ll sleep outside in one of the bedrolls.” He shoved past the older dwarf into the night, then in mid step realized he hadn’t picked up the bedroll in the first place, and as he turned back to storm stroppily into the wagon, he slammed into Bifur’s chest and his cousin’s arms were around him before he could even start sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” he wailed. “ I’m so sorry. I’m just so very, very tired sometimes.” Bifur said nothing. Merely nodded then carried Bofur back to the wagon in his arms. “I’m sorry,” repeated the younger dwarf. 

“Shh. None of that cousin. I’m the one who is sorry. You’re right that you should take small comforts of happiness where you can get it. I just want to make sure you’ll be happy for a long time.”

“I...I know that,” sniffed Bofur, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“Sleep now. I’ll finish the stock.”

* * *

When Bofur awake the next morning he had a headache from crying and had clearly overslept, because the sun was higher in the sky than he had expected. 

Bifur had left him a note:

_ I thought I’d let you sleep in. Just meet me at the market when you feel like getting up. _

_ -B _

Bofur sighed and stretched. He supposed he had better get a move on to help Bifur, even though he still felt bleary eyed and had a sore head. He began walking towards Hobbiton and suddenly felt very self conscious at the fact that he must look a mess.

When was the last time he had a bath? He sniffed at himself and cringed at the slight ripeness. Well, only one thing for it. He had to get clean. He unwrapped the bar of soap he kept in one of the side pockets of his toolkit, and began stripping off.

It was a warm, pleasant morning, and while the initial shock of diving into the water was bracing, Bofur quickly got used to it and swam a few laps, before finally stopping to clean his hair, face and body. He worked the suds into a good lather, then dipped his head under the water to rinse off. When he bobbed to the surface again, he realized he had an audience.

“Hello!” he shouted cheerfully, at the two hobbits that had stopped to point at him. They were muttering something to each other. Then one of them called out to him: “Are you Mister Bofur?”

“Aye! That’s me. The more handsome of the two!” He snickered to himself. Bifur would have probably thumped him for that one.

After a while a larger crowd gathered to point and stare at the strange, shaggy spectacle, and eventually, Bofur recognised one of them. 

Bilbo was on the riverbank. Bilbo was watching. Bofur grinned big over his shoulder and flexed one of his biceps a bit. Just enough to be subtle, but also put a healthy tomato colour into the hobbit’s face. Oh yes, that was so worth it.

“Aren’t you freezing, Mister Bofur?” called one of the tween hobbits. 

“Not at all! It’s much colder where I’m from. The Shire feels like a hot tub.”

A gaggle of pleasant laughter came from at the bank at the dwarf’s reply. 

Bilbo, however, was silent. Standing still with his hands balled in fists and his market basket in the crook of his elbow.

The thing was…Bilbo had stared at a few farmhands now and then. And he knew he was different from the hobbit families who settled down, gotten married and had ten fauntlings with each other. Yes, he  _ had _ stared at the occasional farmhand who had stripped off his shirt in hot weather, but Bofur was...well, he was different. His arms were far more muscular (Bilbo had definitely noticed him flexing) and he was so much more hirsute than a hobbit. His hair was scattered across his broad chest, and travelled downward over a softer tummy in a thinner line, disappearing under the water where Bilbo could not see.

"Mister Bilbo?" enquired Hamfast, who was staring curiously at his employer who currently looked to him like a fish gaping because it had been left out of the water.

"Yes!?" Bilbo replied, the word practically a shriek.

"I was just wondering if you needed me to trim the roses this morning? Only they're gettin' awfully overgrown. They're even startin' to grow into the path and the thorns might catch on passersby?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Yes," he said in a more even, deeper tone. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Now, if you'll excuse me , I have some business to attend to. Need to check the mail, make Elevensies and all that."

"Of course."

Bofur watched Mr. Baggins hurry off down the road and grinned to himself. It had been thoroughly enjoyable watching the hobbit become so flustered at the sight of him bathing. The only downside was that Bilbo did not come out of his home for the rest of the day.

* * *

After Bifur had counted the day's takings, Bofur told him he was going to go and check on Bilbo. The older dwarf smiled softly.  _ "Enjoy your time with him while you can,  _ **_Irik-nadad_ ** _." _

Bofur ignored the implications of the statement. He really didn't want to think about anything ending right now.

He walked along the riverside, watching the mayflies and their brief up-and-down dance in the fading light near the shallower parts of the stream, and he tried not to speed up like an overeager young Dwarrow meeting his first love somewhere in secret, but by the time he reached the bottom of the hill, he was jogging.

Finally he reached Bilbo's gate and rang the doorbell while he tried to catch his breath.

The door swung open sooner than Bofur had expected. There was Bilbo, looking clean and smart and comfortable in his patchwork dressing gown. Bofur was suddenly aware that his own person was a sweaty, panting mess and cringed internally.

Bilbo's lips were pursed, his eyes narrowed. "Yes?" he said tersely. 

Bofur gaped. "I er..." he fumbled. "I came to see how you were?" He felt his voice become thinner with each word under Bilbo's withering stare.

"How I am?" said Bilbo.

The dwarf nodded frantically.

"How I  _ am _ ? I'll tell you how I am! I'm furious! After all the work I did yesterday to try and get everyone not to gossip about you, you go and...and  _ strip off _ and bathe naked in front of everyone. You could...you could see almost..." and here the last word came out in a strangled gasp "... _ everything _ !" 

"Do hobbits normally bathe with all their clothes on?" replied Bofur, with what he hoped was a sheepish yet charming grin.

"No!" snapped Bilbo. "Of course not! But we bathe in private where other people can't  _ see _ !"

"Begging your pardon, Bilbo, but there aren't really any options left to us with regards to keeping clean. Since we Dwarves don't have private bathrooms on the road."

"You could have asked," hissed Bilbo.

Bofur felt himself deflate slightly. He had completely misinterpreted the reason for Bilbo's embarrassment on the riverbank after all. "I didn't want to impose. I'm truly sorry. I guess I forget your folk are probably less used to public nudity. It doesn't really bother us Dwarrow too much."

Bilbo snorted. "That much is obvious!"

"Are you still upset with me...?"

In answer, Bilbo shifted slightly on his big, hairy (but to Bofur, no less adorable) feet, stepped to one side and motioned with his head to Bofur to enter the smial.

"I'll put tea on." And wasn't that just like Bilbo? His solution to everything uncomfortable seemed to be food or drink. 

"Do you think the folk here will want me...us gone again after they saw me bathin'?" asked Bofur, as he watched the hobbit pour him out a strong, hot cup of tea.

Bilbo put the teapot down and sighed. "Probably not. But you don't want to give anyone an excuse. People here are generally good folk, but they're not used to situations that are...well, different."

"I see," said the dwarf, gingerly sipping at his tea. "And how do you find our cultural differences, Mr. Baggins? Does that Took side mean you see us as different in a good way, or are we more of a nuisance?"

"You're not...you are never a nuisance," said Bilbo softly.

The dwarf regarded Bilbo. Everything he'd said seemed to imply that Bilbo was more worried he and Bifur would be driven off rather than him being upset at whatever transgressions Bofur had unintentionally committed that morning. 

"I am sorry all the same if I caused you any shame."

Bofur felt his heart speed up as he watched the tips of Bilbo's ears turn bright red again.

"No...that's. It's fine," mumbled the hobbit, wrapping his hands around his own mug to warm them. "It's fine."

Bofur smiled, and to his delight, Bilbo returned the expression with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Are there any other cultural differences I should know about that might alarm the locals?"

"Well we do take to drink and song a lot."

Bilbo chuckled. "There's no difference here. Hobbits do love a good ale and music."

"Hmm. Well ye do seem to have a greater affinity for food, but then so does my brother Bombur. He'd fit right in here. Would probably live like a king."

"Speaking of kings, you mentioned one the last time. What is he like?"

"Truth be told I don't know much about him personally, or any of the nobs, but I hear he's a wise ruler, fair to his people, and he helped a lot of our displaced people make a home in the Blue Mountains." He chuckled. "Though some say he has a quick temper. I suppose he can't be blamed for that after the dragon took his home."

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. "How do you feel about your home?"

"Truthfully? I don't think anywhere has felt like a home to me in a long time. Just a base to stay before I move on to the next thing. The only constant in my life is the family, aye? I think I'd be a right mess without them." He ran a finger over Bilbo's wooden table, a solid comforting object that friends and family were meant to sit around. Except Bilbo's family was gone and he did not seem to have any close friends. "I didn't mean..." he began.

"It's quite alright," Bilbo replied honestly. 

Bofur tilted his head at the hobbit. Bilbo's soft curls glowed in the candlelight and his long, clever fingers gripped his mug tighter. Bofur wanted to take Bilbo’s hands and kiss those fingers. Bilbo would no doubt be alone again once he was gone.

"How would you like to come with us?" The words were out of Bofur's mouth before he could stop himself. "Never thinking before you speak!" his Ma used to scold, especially at family gatherings, when the family had been more whole, before the orcs had scattered so many of them.

"Oh," said Bilbo, the word a barely audible squeak. "I...I don't think that's a good idea."

Bofur felt his heart sink, then scramble desperately. "I mean, we would be coming back this way," he said. "After we sell our wares in other hobbit towns. Then we'll go back to the Blue Mountains to restock, but we'll pass through. We could come back and call on you. Just to say hello, just to see how you are. So I'll be back..."

Bilbo brightened a little at that, and Bofur took that as his cue to continue: “So I might ask that question again in a fortnight? After all, what better way to learn about dwarf culture than to experience it?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak again, and was surprised when Bofur placed his large, warm calloused hands over his own. “Don’t answer right away. Think about it for a fortnight, aye?”

“I...alright.”

Bofur was feeling confident enough again to wink at Bilbo, then he stood up, reluctantly withdrawing his hands from Bilbo’s. “I guess I had better go check on Bifur. See you tomorrow before we head off?”

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry this chapter took so long to get out. It's been a stressful month, and I've also had little insecure voices going "why bother writing Boffins, when hardly anyone likes it!" but clearly you guys do, as this has over 100 kudos now (thank you so much!)
> 
> I took the name for Bofur's ex (Austri) from the Völuspá in the Poetic Edda, which is where Tolkien got all his dwarf names.


	5. New plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Urs leave Bag End.
> 
> No beta, we die like mne, so hopefully there are no glaring errors.

Bilbo’s lips were soft and sweet as they pressed against Bofur’s. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening as his arms wrapped around the hobbit and he ran a hand through soft, curly hair..

“Yes, I’ll go with you,” Bilbo grinned against his lips as his small hands knead into the collar of Bofur’s scarf. “Yes, I will.”

“Bilbo…” sighed the dwarf, happily, gazing at his hobbit with awe. He never thought he’d be allowed to have this, to have Bilbo  _ with _ him.

“Bilbo…”

“Bofur…”

**“BOFUR!”**

His eyes flew open, giving him a view of Bifur’s boots on the floor of the wagon and he groaned. Why did people always wake you up during the best part of a dream?

“We need to get a move on,” said his cousin. “I want to make sure we can cover as much distance as possible while the sun is still up.

“Mmmpfbleb,” Bofur replied, articulately from his puddle of drool. “Gimme a minute. Jus’ wanna get some tea in me.” He stretched and pulled his tunic on.

“No time. I know that’s a stalling tactic.”

“Oh, come on!” whined the younger dwarf. “I just want a pick me up.” 

“Fine.”

Bofur grinned triumphantly and set to work building a fire to boil water. His cousin hadn’t been totally wrong; he was in no hurry to leave and would have gladly sat there counting blades of grass if it meant he could stay a bit longer in Hobbiton. Once tea was finished they set about getting the ponies ready and that gave Bofur some time to think.

He wished Bifur hadn't mentioned Austri. 

He knew his cousin meant well and was just trying to be protective, but he had to admit it was playing on his mind a little. He knew if he’d left Hobbiton with Bilbo’s final answer being “no” then he’d be fighting back tears the whole way through the rest of the Shire. Giving Bilbo time to think about it meant Bofur had at least 2 more weeks of being in limbo before having to accept the reality that the halfling wasn’t going to come on an adventure with him, let alone return his feelings. 

Just...was it really so wrong that he was sweet on a hobbit? Bilbo was so nice, and clever and funny, with  _ lovely _ hands and a wonderfully expressive face. Couldn’t Bofur at least be allowed to  _ wish _ for things? He’d always been a bit of an oddball among his people to begin with. 

He finished harnessing up the ponies for their outward journey and made sure the stock inside the wagon was secure so that nothing would get broken on the bumpy roads.

_ “Ready?” _ called Bifur.

“Aye, just makin’ sure nothin’s going to wobble about once the beast starts walkin’.”

_ “Right, we’ll go and say goodbye to Bilbo then.” _

Bofur felt a pang of both excitement and dejection at the mention of the hobbit. He fiddled with one of the flaps of his hat.

“We’ll...we’ll be comin’ back this way, won’t we?”

_ “Bofur…” _

“Mahal, Bifur. Is it so wrong that I’d want to see someone on the way back home?”

_ “Of course not. But I know it’s more than that to you. Wouldn’t it be better to use the time away to let this fade? One day in the future you’ll meet a dwarf who is right for you. Someone who will love you and treat you right. I know you will. Don’t despair and think this is the end.” _

“I...aye. Yer right.” He didn’t want to argue anymore with Bifur. “Let’s just go and say goodbye then.” They left the ponies where they were and began the walk uphill to Bag End.

* * *

  
  
  


Bilbo stood near the front door, fidgeting. He was deep in thought, his eyebrows knitted together, and his nose twitching at intervals. 

He couldn’t go. He was a Baggins. They were meant to be respectable and contribute to society. They weren’t meant to go on adventures, like his mother, who had been allowed to do that because she was a Took. Well, at least she had until she had married Bungo and became a Baggins too.

No, no...he couldn’t go. He’d wait for the dwarves to return. He had two weeks to think about it and there was no need to rush headlong into things! Especially without planning. He stared at the door.

He’d wait.

* * *

The morning was another hot one and Shire life was in full swing, with farmers tending to crops, hobbits carrying vegetables and cheese past for the market, and fauntlings rushing around among people’s legs. Bofur nearly tripped over them twice. 

“It’s the toymakers!” one of them shouted and Bofur grinned back, feeling content and jolly, just for a moment.

They reached the green, cheery door and Bofur knocked reluctantly. The door swung open almost instantly, which startled the dwarf a little. “Bilbo,” he said happily, powerless to keep the grin off his face whenever confronted with Mr. Baggins.

The hobbit stared at his toes. “So, I guess you’ve come to say goodbye,” he said. He sounded a little wistful.

“Aye..” nodded Bofur, his smile fading.

“Before you go…” Bilbo turned and disappeared into the house, quickly returning with a green, hardbound book. “I want you to have this,” he said, holding it out to Bofur.

Bofur felt his mind stutter. He didn’t want to admit it to Bilbo, but he wasn’t literate. His family had never been able to afford an education like the nobles and middle classes. There was no need for them to do so, really. 

But Bilbo was so smart and learned, and he was giving Bofur a gift and all he could do was turn to the front page, where Bilbo’s scrawl in ink stared back at him. He  _ couldn’t  _ admit that nothing in between those covers would make sense to him.

Bifur’s guttural accent made itself known near Bofur’s shoulder and he jumped a little.

“What’s that, Bifur?” asked Bilbo, looking straight at the older dwarf as he always did when talking to him.

It took a few seconds for Bofur to catch on to what Bifur was trying to do. He held the book out to Bilbo. “Er, he asks what it says at the top here. You see, he never learnt to read.”

“Ah,” said Bilbo, addressing Bifur directly again.  _ Thank Mahal, _ thought Bofur. “It says, to Bofur and Bifur, I hope you enjoy this gift...please come back soon, Bilbo.” Bilbo’s eyes drifted to Bofur’s face. They were bright and full of...hope? Wistfulness? “Let me know what you think of it,” he said.

“I’ll treasure it,I’m sure,” whispered Bofur, clutching the book to his chest. “Thank you, Bilbo.” Then Bilbo’s arms were around him and he felt himself drowning in the soft feel of him, pressed against his chest and the scent of his favourite pipeweed and grass and things Bilbo had no doubt baked for breakfast this morning and his arms went around the hobbit.

Then just as quickly as Bilbo had initiated the hug, the moment was over and Bofur felt a sense of loss as the hobbit stood back, swinging his arms at his side awkwardly. “Well...you’ve got to head on.” He looked up at the dwarves again and nodded. 

“Wait,” said Bofur, and he fumbled in his satchel, muttering to himself until he found what he was looking for. He inwardly cursed himself for not making something more worthy of Bilbo, but he hadn’t expected the hobbit to present him with a gift and it seemed rude not to reciprocate.

He handed over the small carving. “Um...for ye,” he said. “Just...just a small gift from m-from us.”

Bifur smirked behind him and he could almost feel it.  _ Bastard _ , he thought. 

Bilbo looked down at the carving and his face lit up with a smile which Bofur mirrored. “Why, this is wonderful!” said the hobbit, running his fingers over Bofur’s craftsmanship.

“It...it’s nothin’ really. I mean, I’ll make you a better one.”

“I’m perfectly happy with this,” said Bilbo, holding it up to the light. “But I wouldn’t say no to seeing more of your work.”

“Well,” said Bofur, relaxing a little. “I can promise you more of that. Ye look after yerself. We’ll be back in a fortnight!”

Bifur patted his cousin on the back. “ _ Time to go _ ,” he said.

* * *

Bofur clutched the book to his chest the whole time Bifur guided the wagon away from Hobbiton. Somehow he’d find out the mystery within those pages. He swore it. He was so deep in thought that it took him a minute to notice something was off.

“Wait, Bifur. We came from that direction. Tookborough is the other way.”

_ “I know. We’re going to Bree.” _

“Bree? Why?”

_ “Ye didn’t really think I was going to put up with all your moping for the next two weeks, did you? No, my plan is we head to Bree. If we can find a smithy and purchase some supplies we may be able to make some more stock without heading back to Ered Luin to reload. We can stay a bit longer in The Shire.” _ He cleared his throat.  _ “Since I know you like that sort of thing.” _

Bofur was silent for a moment as he stared at his cousin in disbelief, then his face broke out in a smile, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes showing all at once, which they did when he was especially happy, and he started laughing. His laughing morphed into sobs of joy as he wrapped his arms around his cousin’s shoulders.

“Thank ye,” he sniffled. “Thank ye!”

“ _ Yer supposed to be happy, not  _ cryin’ _.” _

Bofur laughed again. “I can’t help it. I just...thank ye Bifur.”

The older dwarf sighed.  _ “This is probably a fool’s errand, but I saw the way you looked at that hobbit and I thought: ‘well Bofur at least deserves a  _ chance _ at happiness.’ Not often someone can leave him almost  _ speechless _. Our people have had enough hardship, so we should try to take happiness where you can find it. Besides, I don’t fancy a long journey back, do you?” _

Bofur had trouble wiping the massive grin off his face all the way to Bree.

* * *

They reached the town at nightfall, and after making sure the ponies were stabled and the wagon secure, they settled down for a pint at the Prancing Pony inn.

“To our new venture,” grinned Bofur as he clanked his tankard with Bifur’s.”

_ “Aye. It’s good to see you in better spirits, cousin.” _

Bofur looked slyly back over his shoulder. “Speakin’ of better spirits, I plan to sample a few while we’re here.”

_ “Just don’t drink until ye can’t stand. Especially since we’re heading out first thing tomorrow to find a smithy. We need to get to work as soon as possible if we’re to have enough stock.” _

“Aye, fear not. I shall remain upright if it makes ye feel any better. Another?”

Bifur nodded, and the younger dwarf headed towards the bar, but not before he had an errand to attend to first.

He walked up to the inn counter, placed his mitted hands on the side of it, and stretched on the tips of his toes until he could properly see Barliman Butterbur, the innkeep.

“Ye look like a trustworthy fellow, am I right?” asked Bofur, peering up at him.

“Folks say I am,” Butterbur replied, chuckling. “How can I be of service?”

“I need to send a letter. But...I can’t...I’ve never had any book-learnin’ if ye get my meaning. It’s just a short note, so I was wondering if ye’d be willing to write it out for me and send it off. I’d be happy to pay a few coin for it too if ye like.”

“No need. If it’s just a short message I can write it out and drop it in the letter basket for the collection tomorrow? Know the address?”

“Aye. Bilbo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire.”

“And what would you be wantin’ the note to say?”

“Hello Bilbo, will be delayed in Bree, Don’t worry, it’s good news! I will return soon. Your friend, Bofur.”

Butterbur scribbled out Bofur’s note, addressed and sealed it and set it behind the counter.

“Many thanks. Ye sure I can’t repay ye?”

“Well I wouldn’t say no to you buying a few more pints if that’s to your likin’.”

“Oh it most certainly is!” Bofur winked at him and strode back to the bar to do just that. He decided to use the washroom on the way as he was definitely  _ already _ full of ale. Where was it? He looked down one hallway then the other, and was just about to check the third when he froze. The unmistakable feel of a sharp point was at his throat and he felt hot breath in his ear. Then an all too familiar voice purred: “Well I didn’t expect to see the likes of  _ you _ here.”

“Nori get off me!” Bofur shouted, pushing the red haired thief away. Nori laughed and shoved back playfully. 

“Mahal, how are you? I haven’t seen you in what feels like an age!”

“Yeah well whose fault is that? Yer always so secretive and no one can ever find ye because ye never stay in one place! I should ask what yer doing here.”

Nori tapped the side of his nose. “I’m following someone.”

“Who?”

“That’s for me to know. And honestly, the less you know the better.”

Bofur believed him. “Well, can ye--”

He jumped as a chair crashed over Nori’s head in a shower of splinters.

“Bifur!” yelped Bofur. “It’s only Nori!”

_ “He was holding a bloody  _ knife _ to yer throat.” _

* * *

Another pint and a bag of herbs held to the growing lump on Nori’s head later, the three dwarves sat outside, getting some air to clear their heads before bedtime.

“I wish ye’d tell me what yer doin’ here,” said Bofur. “But it makes sense that you’d leave us out of it if it’s somethin’ foolish and dangerous.”

“Foolish, no,” Nori whimpered as he pressed the bag of herbs to his throbbing head. “Dangerous, yes. But it need not concern you.  _ You’re _ not in danger, but someone important might be.”

Bofur raised an eyebrow. “Well,” he said, grinning with his pipe between his teeth. “It’s good to know where we stand in your estimation.”

Bifur snorted in agreement.

“That’s not what I...oh nevermind. Look, just lay low, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”

Bofur nodded. “On that note, I guess we better retire to our rooms. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Ah yes, the business venture. Well, if I don’t see you, then good luck with it.”

“G’night ye idiot,” said Bofur with some modicum of affection, as he and Bifur moved to leave.

“Oh, one more thing,” said Nori, and with a sleight of hand a book appeared in his fingers. “Who is Bilbo?”


End file.
